


Thunderstorms and Sunshowers

by D_Willims



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chapter Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Willims/pseuds/D_Willims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles based on the lives of the Rain orphans, and potentially other Rain ninja.</p>
<p>Latest: <i>After the Storm.</i>  After the end, Konan's life begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorms and Sunshowers

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Naruto_ universe.
> 
> **Characters** : Konan  
>  **Rating** : T  
>  **Contains** : Semi-Graphic Character Death, Talk of Extreme Violence  
>  **Summary** : At the end, Konan's life is just beginning.  
>  **Word Count** : 683
> 
> **Notes:** Inspired by Chapter #509. Doesn't adhere Chapter #510 and (most likely) beyond. Make of that what you will.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

There were shredded pieces of singed paper and used exploding notes floating in the air. Hundreds of thousands of them. They fell back down like rain, or perhaps snow, and settled over his hollowed out corpse and the glistening water like a blanket.

Bits and pieces of paper clung to strands of Konan's tangled hair. The blue locks fell loose around her shoulders, pulled free by the explosion. Some of her hair stuck to her face. And it was only then that Konan realized she'd been crying.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

His corpse barely resembled anything human, now. It was hollowed out, charred black and messy with blood. Even the papers that fell around it weren't enough to completely hide the stain of it.

It was a fitting ending, really, Konan thought. In life, Madara had barely resembled anything human either. He'd been a machine, fueled by the darkest of nightmares and delusions of immortality. A blight upon the world.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

Konan found herself moving away from the cool rock she'd slammed against and was moving closer to the corpse. Closer to the nightmare that had haunted her for so long. Her feet were slipping in the wet, paper-covered ground, her legs barely able to support her. Dimly, she was aware that her shoulder was bleeding all down her back.

And she came to a stop, near the mess that was once a head and right shoulder. Konan was painfully aware that she'd lost all the protective layers of paper and exploding notes in her final gamble. That, for the first time ever, she stood before Madara completely stripped of any protection.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

An odd sort of relief swelled in Konan's chest. She dropped to her knees, unable to quite hold herself up anymore. With one shaking hand, she reached out, towards his throat. Just in case.

She clasped his throat with more violence than strictly necessary. Holding what was left of the burnt flesh with a white-knuckled grip. Two fingers against his pulse point. Heel of her hand pressed down against his windpipe.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

There wasn't even a flicker of life under her fingers. The corpse was tangible and there, squeezed in her grip. This so-called immortal had finally succumbed to his own limitations.

It hadn't been a simple end. But it had been quick. A brief flash of violence, of hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of exploding notes shredding out of existence. Ripping him apart, too.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

It hadn't changed anything, though. Not really. She'd betrayed him, turned on him when he least expected it. Konan had done what she was supposed, a mix of revenge and self-preservation. But the world had reset itself, hadn't acknowledged this death at all.

Yahiko was still dead, though. And Nagato. Jiraiya. Amegakure was still falling apart. Konan was just a support for these dreams that had flickered back out existence.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

Konan supposed it mattered in a periphery sort of way. The nightmare was over, so to speak. This blight on humanity had disappeared on the wind. Leaving behind only a few strands of himself behind, the kind of thing meant to inspire people.

"Jiraiya told me once," Konan said quietly, "that in Konoha they believed in the Will of Fire. The passing on of passion and beliefs. That the worst curse to wish upon someone is that end of their Will." She moved away from Madara, straightening until she was standing.

Uchiha Madara was dead.

Her joints were stiff as she stripped off the Akatsuki cloak. She laid it carefully over Madara's corpse. Reaching into the pack strapped into her leg, she pulled out a box of matches and lit one.

"Goodbye." Konan dropped the match. She watched the fire race up, consuming her cloak and the corpse, the bits of papers it came in contact with. "You Will ends here."

Uchiha Madara was dead.

Yahiko was dead. Nagato was dead. Jiraiya was dead. Her parents were dead.

Konan survived. The village would survive.


End file.
